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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512951">the human heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderized/pseuds/finned'>finned (tenderized)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Stages of Relationships, each chapter is an independent completed work, sensory prompt collection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:27:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderized/pseuds/finned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"To seek your face in the rain and in the lights,<br/>To chase your shadow in the faces of strangers...!"<br/></p>
</blockquote><i>School of Love, Nizar Qabbani</i>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SunaOsa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. sunaosa; snow down the back of your coat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sensory prompt #3: snow being shoved down the back of your coat<br/>pairing: miya osamu/suna rintarou</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Osamu’s focus is ripped away from the greying line of the horizon as he registers something icy and wet sliding down the back of his sweater, crystalline edges snagging in the wool of his turtleneck, and he stiffens, trying to arch away from the <i>snow that had just been shoved down the back of his coat.</i></p><p>He yelps at the fleeting sensation of warm knuckles against the nape of his neck as another fistful of snow joins the other in its melting process, and he trips over the laces of his boots as he tries to shake it out of his clothes.</p><p>Beside him, Suna is howling, sudden laughter loud in the still night.</p><p>“You should’ve seen your <i>face</i> –” He clutches his backpack close and dances out of the way when Osamu aims a clumsy swipe his way. </p><p>“Suna…”</p><p>“Yes?” the other asks, faultless, straightening from where he’d been crouched over, amusement obvious in his features.</p><p>“I’m givin’ ya five seconds to run.” He grits his teeth. “Then, you're dead meat.”</p><p>“Wait, Osamu, come on,” the other just about whines. “We’re adults we can talk this out –”</p><p>“Five,” Osamu counts, interrupting the younger. “Four.”</p><p>Suna starts backing away.</p><p>“Three,” Osamu says. He starts running.</p><p>“That wasn’t five seconds,” Suna yells as he races ahead, the books in his bag smacking against his lower back with every step. “Fucking cheater!”</p><p>Osamu doesn’t reply, quickening his steps instead.</p><p>Suna shuts up when he sees that the other is unyielding and drops his backpack on the side of the icy road to focus on running.</p><p>Usually, when it comes to speed, Osamu and Suna are about neck and neck, but with his pride at stake, Osamu finds that he’s never run faster, and when Suna, overconfident, turns back again to look, he gets the satisfaction of watching the younger’s eyes widen as he barrels the other into the curbside snow, their legs tangling together.</p><p>He has the presence of mind to bring a hand up to cradle the back of Suna’s head just before they fall, and when they land, he’s winded as his breath rushes out of him.</p><p>The zipper of Suna’s winter coat digs into his stomach, and snow is seeping into his shoes, through the gap between jean and sock, and it’s freezing against the back of his hand, which is still tangled in the other’s hair, and honestly, he’s probably worse off than he would’ve been if he’d just left it alone.</p><p>But he wouldn’t be a Miya if he just left things well enough alone, would he?</p><p>And no matter how cold he is, Suna’s probably feeling a hundred times more miserable, pressed all the way into the snow, Osamu heavy on top, and that’s what makes it all worthwhile, so he’s ready to gloat, when he looks down at the other, and he notices how close their faces are, how Suna’s pale cheeks are flushed with exertion.</p><p>His heartbeat stutters, once, twice, and then picks up, faster.</p><p>“Rin,” he says, and it comes out more breathless than he would like. Suna blinks up at him, and there are snowflakes in his long, dark lashes. He’s panting, and his breath is warm against Osamu’s chin.</p><p>“You caught me,” Suna says lightly, and the words are bare in the cold winter air.</p><p>Osamu shivers.</p><p>“I should make you run extra laps next practice,” Osamu says. “Don’t think I haven’t caught ya slackin’.” He brushes away melted snow from the skin by the other’s nose. “Gonna be slower’n the first years at this rate.”</p><p>“Well,” Suna replies, voice low, “Can’t exactly say no to the vice-captain, can I?” His eyes flicker downwards, and Osamu mirrors his movement, gaze dipping low to the other’s chapped mouth.</p><p>He swallows. </p><p>“Suna, I -” He pauses, and time is suspended, infinite.</p><p>Suna waits, picture-perfect in the dirty snow, and Osamu’s heart is in his throat. Exhale, slow and sweet.</p><p>And then a hand full of snow is being shoved in his face, and he forgets whatever it was he wanted to say.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>twitter at <a href="https://www.twitter.com/atsusuna">@atsusuna</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. sunaosa; numbness after crying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sensory prompt #52: exhausted numbness after crying<br/>pairing: miya osamu/suna rintarou</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Osamu doesn’t cry.</p><p>It’s just never been something that he does. He doesn’t think he’s repressed, necessarily, and it’s not like he holds himself back on purpose, but tears have never come naturally to him, not when it’s so much easier to keep everything bottled inside, slow pressure cooker behind his ribs.</p><p>It’s worked for him thus far.</p><p>Atsumu’s always been the crybaby between the two of them, easy to tears, and always so clear and sure of where he stands, and in the past, it made him envious.</p><p>Osamu turns the cross-handled knobs of the faucet, and water, clear and cool against his skin, comes rushing out. He watches as it runs through his fingers and swirls to the bottom of the sink before slipping down the drain, gone.</p><p>His face feels numb when he brings his hands up and presses at the skin below his eyes, and when he looks in the mirror opposite, he looks the same he always does. </p><p>He almost laughs, then, suddenly, because this is absurd, and of course he can’t even manage to be an ugly crier, no red-rimmed eyes or ruddy nose.</p><p>He turns off the water.</p><p>He’s not sure what went wrong, between him and Suna, and maybe that’s because nothing did go wrong. And yet.</p><p>“Maybe you should’ve tried harder,” he says aloud, just to hear it, and even now he’s not sure for who the words are meant. Either way, his reflection doesn’t reply, just blinks at him with dark, dark eyes, twice as far.</p><p>Later, when people ask him, he’ll say it was a mutual breakup, and it was, in a way, even if it feels wrong to call something so faded away, so threadbare, a break.</p><p>A clean break would have been easier, and he wishes there was something he could point at definitively and say, yes, this is why we didn’t work out because then, maybe – maybe, they could’ve.</p><p>It doesn’t matter anymore, though, and all he has left is the empty space on the left side of the bed and the vacuum in his head.</p><p>The strangest thing is that he’s not even sad, not really, and he hasn’t been sad about this in a long time, the phantom pain intangible.</p><p>
  <i>We were in love,</i> he thinks. <i>And then we weren’t.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>twitter at <a href="https://www.twitter.com/atsusuna">@atsusuna</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. atsusuna; a person's weight lying on top of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sensory prompt #38: a person's weight as they lie on top of you<br/>pairing: miya atsumu/suna rintarou</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Atsumu walks into their shared bedroom, familiar walls light blue and cream, he finds Suna lying on the center of their bed, phone held high above his head as he scrolls through some app or another.</p><p>Atsumu watches him quietly, and it’s almost like he’d never left. “Hey,” he says after a moment. And next, “I’m home.” He begins stripping himself of his jacket, glad to be rid of the stale air of a five-hour train ride, and tosses it toward the chair in the corner. He misses, and the zipper hits the aluminum rim of their floor lamp with a sharp clicking sound.</p><p>At first there’s no response, but then, “Did you bring me a souvenir?” Suna asks, not sparing him a glance. A second later, there’s sharp laughter, and when Atsumu looks over, he finds that the other is grinning at his screen. </p><p>He frowns. Suna kicks his left foot against the mattress in anticipation.</p><p>“Seriously?” Atsumu says, affronted. “That’s it?” His hands reach for his belt, and he slips off his jeans, toeing them to the corner where his jacket had fallen. When he heads over to the drawers, pulling out the topmost shelf, he finds his grey sweats neatly folded at the top.</p><p>“What?” is the response, a little snide. “You expecting something else?”</p><p>Right before he’d left, the sweatpants had been crumpled in a pile at the bottom of the laundry bin, tossed in with a dirtied EJP jersey, both stained beyond hope of repair. </p><p>Public coffeeshop spats never end well. </p><p>He almost smiles at the memory, distant enough that it’s now become sort of funny, but the urge fades quickly when he hears the sound of a short video being played and then the following snort from the bed.</p><p>Feeling irritated again as he pulls his joggers on, his foot tangles in the pant leg, tripping him, and it causes his elbow to knock against the wall.</p><p>He swears.</p><p>“You need help there?” Suna drawls.</p><p>“You're a real bitch sometimes, Rin, y'know that?” Atsumu growls, and he makes sure to shut the drawer with extra force. The humidifier on top shakes from the motion, and he has to hurry to steady it before it actually falls to the ground and shatters.</p><p>A long silence and finally, Suna puts his phone down and turns onto his side, propping his head up with a hand to look at Atsumu.</p><p>“What? Did you want a welcome back kiss and hug?” Suna raises both eyebrows and pouts mockingly.</p><p>Atsumu glowers, doesn’t reply. </p><p>After a few tense seconds, the other relents, features softening. “Sorry.” Suna groans and runs a weary hand through his hair. “I’m just fucking with you. Come over, dummy.”</p><p>Atsumu hesitates, tempted to hang the other out to dry, but also, it’s been almost a month since they’ve last been in the same city, and even longer since they’ve actually had time together, so really, what’s the point in holding grudges? He’s not the masochist in this relationship.</p><p>So, he walks over to the bed and settles one knee on top of the mattress before stopping, letting those last few centimeters stretch, just because. </p><p>Suna rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to tug him over, pulling him in by the shirtfront until Atsumu is sprawling on top of the other, weight heavy and solid, gravity drawing him down.</p><p>Beneath him, Suna sighs softly, wide hands moving to clutch him by the shoulder blades and then drifting lower to settle at his lower back where his shirt rides up.</p><p>“Guess I might’ve missed you, too,” he voices softly, words tickling the shell of Atsumu’s ear, and the admission makes him shiver.</p><p>Atsumu tucks his face into the other’s neck and breathes in deep, smelling jasmine and warm skin, and lets the tense muscles in his back relax.</p><p>“Was that so hard?” he mumbles. “To not be a complete ass.”</p><p>“Unbelievably,” the other replies, dry, and Atsumu can feel the rumble of Suna’s chest below him and the vibration of the skin of the other’s neck when he speaks.</p><p>Atsumu hums, satisfied nonetheless, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the younger’s pulse point, relishing in the way Suna’s fingers tighten around him and his breath catches.</p><p>The other’s callused fingers inch up slowly, hiking up his shirt, and they trail warmth up his skin, thin golden lines, and beneath them, sparks fizz and sizzle against Atsumu’s skin where Suna has touched.</p><p>Atsumu settles himself between the part of Suna’s spread legs and over the sharp jut of hipbones and allows himself to be pulled further down, diver sinking in deep ocean, as Suna’s fingertips trace the dip of his spine, moving up, and then down, lower, just shy of his waistband, and then back up again, his touch grounding.</p><p>He noses at Suna’s jaw, and the younger tilts his head to allow access, to allow Atsumu to lick at the delicate skin behind his ear.</p><p>One of Suna’s hands moves higher up to grip him by the hair, pulling Atsumu higher to his mouth, and Atsumu ducks down eagerly to slip his tongue between the other’s lips, the slide slow and sweet like honey, to catch every sound Suna makes, each one like a falling star.</p><p>His skin simmers, summer hot, and when the younger nudges at his shoulder to roll them over, he allows it, dazed as the other straddles him.</p><p>“This better?” Suna asks, face flushed, a little breathless, and when he grins the light catches against the white of his teeth. “This good enough of a greeting for you?”</p><p>And, well, Atsumu could live with this, he thinks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>twitter at <a href="https://www.twitter.com/atsusuna">@atsusuna</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. atsukita; fingers brushing together on accident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sensory prompt #34: the feel of fingers brushing together by accident<br/>pairing: kita shinsuke/miya atsumu</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The heater inside the 7-Eleven is obnoxiously loud, and it stutters every couple of minutes with a harsh <i>kchak-kchak</i> sound, wheezing out an alarming death rattle. That, coupled with the faint buzzing noise of the overhead incandescent lights, works hard to grind Atsumu’s nerves paper-thin.</p><p>Next to him, Suna sits on the only stool they have in the store, watching something on his phone. Atsumu’s feet ache, and his own phone weighs heavily in his pocket, at five percent battery.</p><p>The one up-side of having such a late shift is that usually he’s the only one manning the counter, meaning that he can just sit and waste his time on his phone since less people come in at this time. And now even that benefit is gone, he thinks sullenly.</p><p>“Remind me why you’re here again?” he asks, glaring at the other when Suna snorts at the screen. </p><p>“Because someone’s been stealing from the stocks, and the manager doesn’t trust you?” Suna answers, not bothering to look at him.</p><p>Atsumu turns to him fully, affronted look ready on his face, and he’d stomp his feet, too, if society hadn’t deemed him long past that phase in his life. “You know it’s not me!”</p><p>“Yeah, well, he doesn’t.” Suna settles his phone face-down on the counter, next to the rainbow packs of Hi-Chew. “Trust me, I don’t wanna be here either,” he says, voice bored. “I could be at home right now, getting rail-”</p><p>Atsumu slaps a hasty hand over the other’s mouth, but Suna talks around it, eyes curving in wicked amusement.</p><p>“<i>Railed</i>,” he repeats, raising his voice. “By your brother, but instead I’m here, babysitting you.” He grips Atsumu by the wrist and pulls his hand away. “So you have no room to complain.”</p><p>“And you being here is supposed to do what, exactly? Even if you did see me take something, it’s not like you would report me. What about family loyalty?”</p><p>“Sure I would, for a bonus.”</p><p>Atsumu huffs, leaning his forearms against the counter and shuffling to relieve some of the weight from the balls of his feet. “We’ve got security cameras for that, anyway. I don’t see why you’ve gotta be here. It’s cramped back here as it is, and you’re hoggin’ all the space.” He kicks at one of Suna’s annoyingly long legs petulantly.</p><p>Suna shrugs. “Well, I doubt he seriously thinks it’s you, or you’d be long gone, but like you said, we’ve got cameras and nothing’s showing up, so for now, we’re doubling up.”</p><p>When the scowl on Atsumu’s face doesn’t let up, Suna sighs and drags the stool closer to the counter and closer to him, propping his phone up against the glass jar of cigarette lighters, so they can both watch the video playing.</p><p>“Hey, watch with me,” he acquiesces, nudging Atsumu in the ribs and forcing Atsumu to shuffle sideways to give him space.</p><p>About a quarter of the way through the movie, Suna’s phone suddenly lights up with a call notification, lighting up with a bright green call-symbol and Osamu’s name on the side, and it vibrates until it falls from its little makeshift stand.</p><p>“Oops, gotta take this,” Suna says, a small, fond smile on his face. “You can fend for yourself for a couple minutes, right?”</p><p>“Aw, come on, Suna, just hang up on ‘im,” Atsumu whines, but Suna’s already ducking beneath his arm and opening the door to the store, the night air rushing in after him. The bright little jingle of the bell hanging above chimes as the door slams shut. </p><p>Suna sticks his tongue out at Atsumu from outside the windows and then turns around and puts his phone to his ear.</p><p>Atsumu groans and rakes his fingers through his hair. Knowing Osamu and Suna, it’ll be a very long phone call, and he settles his arms against the counter and presses his head against them. At least he’s got somewhere to sit now.</p><p>Barely a few minutes have passed when all of a sudden there’s the sound of crinkling as someone pokes at the chip bags on the food rack next to the cash register, and Atsumu jerks up, startled.</p><p>He blinks at the figure in front of him, processing, before he’s stumbling to straighten himself into a standing position. Strange. He hadn’t heard the door open.</p><p>He glances outside, but Suna’s still on the phone.</p><p>“Hey.” Right. His job. He clears his voice. “Welcome.” As he says this, the other looks up at him, expression surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to be addressed. </p><p>Atsumu sizes up the person in front of him, feeling strangely unnerved. It’s rare that sober people come in this late, when the night is stretching into morning and color begins to bleed into the sky.</p><p>The other stands about half a head shorter him, with a button nose and small pink mouth. Atsumu pulls his gaze higher to find dark eyebrows and a yellow, luminous stare. </p><p>He clears his throat, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. “Um, you need somethin’?”</p><p>The man in front of him gives him an appraising look before blinking at him, slow. “Oh. Has there been anythin’ strange happening here recently?” he asks after a moment, and Atsumu’s eyes widen, taken aback.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” He replies, suspicious. </p><p>“Disappearances, missing people, unlocked doors,” the other lists out, face impassive. “Anything out of the ordinary.”</p><p>“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” His fingers inch toward his pocket where his phone is. He shifts on his feet, wary. “Did ya actually need anything in here? If not, I’m gonna hafta ask you to leave.”</p><p>He receives another long, considering look for his troubles, and he fidgets more, uncomfortable.</p><p>“No need.” The man settles a plastic-wrapped inarizushi bento in front of him. “I’ll just have this, please.”</p><p>Atsumu takes it from him and rings it up. “That’ll be 298 yen.”</p><p>“Ah,” the other digs in his pocket and pulls out a handful of coins, looking at them, and then back up at Atsumu. “I’m short.”</p><p>Atsumu looks at him incredulously. </p><p>When it doesn’t look like the other is about to move, he sighs deeply. What the hell! What the hell. Before he can think too hard about it, he finds himself patting his jeans for his wallet, pulling it out and flipping it open to find the correct change.</p><p>The cash register opens with a cheerful ding, and he shoves the money in, before snatching up the receipt and pushing it and the food into the other’s waiting hands.</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>Something warm and amused flashes through the other’s eyes, and then Atsumu’s jerking his hand back as their fingers brush.</p><p>The customer is reaching out again then, pulling at Atsumu’s hand gently, and his skin is warm and a little chapped around his fingernails.</p><p>His touch lingers, and he takes a hand to wrap Atsumu’s hand around a small wooden charm. </p><p>“As thanks,” he says. And then, “Be safe, Atsumu,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and when he leans in close, there is the sweet, faint smell of incense. “We’ll meet again.” With that, he turns around, jacket flapping behind him, and walks out the door.</p><p>Before Atsumu can call after him to ask what the hell that was about, Suna walks back in, a smug, satisfied look on his face.</p><p>“Hey, I just saw Suzuki-san’s car pull up,” he says, reaching over the counter for his scarf and wrapping it around himself. “You ready to go?”</p><p>“Did you see which direction the person that just left went?” Atsumu pushes past him and makes his way to the store front. “What the hell,” he repeats to himself, because there’s no one in sight.</p><p>He turns back to Suna.</p><p>“What do you mean the person that just left?” Suna’s followed him outside and now looks at him strangely. “I was outside the entire time. No one came in. You okay there, man?” He burrows deeper into his sweatshirt and jerks his head to the side. “It’s cold, come on, let’s go.”</p><p>Watching Suna walk away, Atsumu thumbs absently at the wooden charm in his grip. It’s a small wooden fox, one with its tail in its mouth, and as he brushes over it with the pad of his finger, a small flare of warmth sparks in his chest. </p><p>He thinks of that yellow stare again before shaking his head to clear the image. Right now, there’s a bed waiting for him.</p><p>“Hey, wait up, jackass,” he yells and runs after the other, early morning frost crunching beneath.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>twitter at <a href="https://www.twitter.com/atsusuna">@atsusuna</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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